Whole
by therisingharvestmoon
Summary: Loki finds a wounded soul to save with the power of the Tesseract. Violence, gore, mentions of rape.


_Warnings: Violence/gore, non-con, rape._

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Whole

Selvig seemed to have everything under control. He kept pining on about Jane Forster and her underling, wanted them to feel the freedom of the Tesseract. They would all feel it soon enough, no special considerations would be made, unless Loki needed another mortal to assist their plan to transport the portal, or making when he chose to make his appearance. The sewers under the city were dank, hidden – ideal for hiding, for creating, but what really put that blue fire in his blood was action. When they all saw what he had done for them, when they all saw what he _could _do to them. Admiration and fear, fear and admiration. He walked the side of the pipes, avoiding the slow-moving, stinking sludge below, hearing small echoes as a brick was turned over by a rat now and then, the rushing of water down into the pipes. The distant and almost unnoticeable thrum of the cube at work. Barton and Selvig could be trusted to complete their tasks without being babysat by a god.

Suddenly, Loki stopped pacing, his ears far superior that those of a mortal picked up the sound of footsteps on stone. Running, far away, headed in his direction. His green eyes flashed in the darkness. He did not want to have to make a kill at all, least of all some foolish mortal idiotic or desperate enough to get lost in this network of stinking tunnels. Stepping back into one of the shadows, waiting. The footsteps stumbled as the figure rounded the corner, he heard the graze of her cotton garments against the bricks as she stumbled. She - Loki could tell from the cadence of her voice - was crying. Not just crying, almost hysterically shrieking, while trying to cover her mouth. She was not tall in stature, her thick hair was matted and stuck together. His eyes took her in. Her thin clothes were filthy and in places, bloodstained. She stumbled forward, trying to regain her footing, meeting his eyes at the end of the pipe.

"Oh please no, please- please – please no!" She stumbled backward so quickly she tripped, grazing the bare heel of her feet.

He stepped forward, sceptre in one hand and holding his palm up to her. "Calm thyself, mortal, calm thyself".

She trembled violently from head to toe, eyes darting all over, not recognising his attire, his face or his weapon. She saw the sharp steel folds though, and she scuttled back so far she hit her head on the wall. "Who- who –are – are- are –are you?"

Loki frowned. She was more than terrified. Like a beast on the run from a predator. "I matters not who I am, why were you running, so frightened?"

"I… he… he…" She lifted her arms weakly, a high pitched keening noise coming from the back of her throat, the silent crying shaking her frame, unable to form words. He noticed her limbs were the most bloody, appearing to be poorly bound in cloth.

Loki considered the pitiful thing for a moment, crouching down where he was, not wanting to scare her further. "You seem to be in an almost surreal state of panic, so perhaps you will not find too much difficulty believing that I am not from this world. If you believe me, I will believe you."

Her wide, grey eyes flicked to his hands, the sceptre, his face. "Please don't hurt me, please."

"I have said, I will not harm thee. You will not need to trouble yourself forming words in your distress if you let me see into your mind."

Her eyes widened even further, she clung to her matted auburn hair with her dirty fingers. At first she looked horrified, and then a flooded, smileless relief gripped her. She nodded. "I w-w-w-w-want someone t-t-t-to see what h-h-h-happened."

He crept forward on the tips of his boots, laying the sceptre down, trying not to make him feel her closed in. Even though his hands extended slowly, a shrill squeak sounded from her formless lips as she shrunk into herself, eyes fixed, shoulders squeezing toward her torso. "I will not hurt you." He almost couldn't believe he was reassuring a human. "I will not."

Her lips, and hands trembling, his green eyes fixed on Delicately, his fingers made contact with her temples and a flood of images entered his head.

_Walking somewhere, cold and dark, at night. Close to where she needed to be. A big gap, she couldn't remember anything, probably hit in the head. Head hurt, but she didn't feel that until she tried to sit up, and her arms were bound. Pressure around her throat. A shadow over her, faceless. A voice. _

"_I know a kinky girl who likes to be tied up. I know a girl who cuts her wrists because she thinks she cannot feel. I know a girl who won't have a choice."_

_She couldn't even hyperventilate in panic against the roles. A knife up near her face, not to cut the ropes. A sting at first as it cut down her arm, then pressed so hard a fountain of blood splattered up, and when she screamed, she was told, she would be punished. He stitched her wounds, no antiseptic. Still with no face. No food. No water. Just a light into her eyes. He wasn't planning on letting her live, but why wouldn't he let her see his face? The knife again, if she so much as flinched, there would be water poured over her face in an almost unending torrent, she swallowed some, coughing. He'd patch her up and cut her again, tied to a concrete slab, unable to even turn her head. _

_Then she was "ready", when her arms and legs and abdomen and breasts were nothing but bandages. His face on her folds, licking and biting, painful, unprotected thrusts into her dry entrance. So bruised and cut she couldn't move. Deciding in her half-dead degraded state that she might try and trick him. Not even blinking as he pulled a knife over her collarbone. He didn't like that, so he dragged the razor across the wound in several successive nicks. Nothing still. A fist to the gut, but her movements were only reactive, her muscles hadn't unclenched in days, waiting to die or for a chance to escape. The same fist, rammed inside her and tears crept to her eyes as noises of pleasure escaped her lips, betraying her total fear and disgust. He stopped, right above her, muscles clenching painfully around his hand inside her._

_"So you're ready, slut? Are you, whore?"_

_She made more long noises of assent, moaning against the cloth which had taken all her saliva. Once he had taken her, he loosened the bonds of her ankles. The again, a day later, she let him fuck her, and he let the ropes get looser and looser. He even let her push her bleeding, lacerated body against him. Close enough to her face, close enough that she whined for him to fuck her. He chanced for a kiss. She suckled the lower lip into her mouth, and bit through it, her knee crushing his balls into his coccyx. That was unexpected. He fell on her, onto the floor, the friction pulling at her broken skin,pulling at some stitches, she heard his muffled scream. She had seconds before he reeled upward, before he caught his breath, grabbed the knife and plunged it into her eye like a fish. _

_She only had a few seconds, but she wriggled, like a fish out of water not quite dead, and the ropes loosened. She slid her arms up and out of her bonds, struggling to free her feet. She jumped from the table, falling and grazing her hands on the concrete floor in the dark, her legs barely working after laying down for... how long?_

_Starving, mutilated, but running. Using her hands to push herself back onto her legs when she heard him move behind her. _

_Breaking through a door, left open, at first delighted her, she didn't think to take anything that would lead police here, she just ran. Left open, more doors, a padlock. She could hear him, it was unlocked, pitch blackness, stinking, falling into water, its stung her wounds. Left open, doors left open because in this network of tunnels, there was every chance he could set fire to these rooms before they'd even finished with her in the hospital, but she couldn't stop now, couldn't stop running in the darkened tunnels, because she heard him splash down in the dark somewhere far behind her. Hurt and wanting to kill her. Bad girl._

_Running, sloshing for a while then finding the side, the bricks, running up on them, bending down, grabbing loose bits of brick, throwing them in the water to her side, he sloshed that way for a while and she got ahead. The tunnels twisted and turned, then there was light up ahead. Her heart thudded in her chest from sheer exhaustion, emotion, starved, cut and violated as she thought she'd gone in a giant loop back to this underground dungeon. No. The light was different. Not harsh white, intended to blind - not clinical, but mystical. Blue. She's stopped in shock and couldn't hear him behind her any more. Maybe he was right behind her with a gun or a knife, or maybe, his lip hanging down and balls crushed like grapes, maybe he was now lost in the tunnels, running after her without a torch, running, expecting to catch her like he'd expected to keep her to fuck, then kill, then maim, but not necessarily in that order._

_She forces herself to keep going, looking for any signs, terrified of who she might run into, more terrified of slowing and being caught._

_She freezes like a rabbit, uncertain, and sees him._

Loki slowly takes his fingers off her forehead. He feels bile rise in his throat, disgusted, full of pity that he avoided and even despised feeling. He looked in her eyes. She shook violently and he took another step back. Though logic and reason told him he should either kill her or let her go on up to the police, he knew she would get lost, perhaps even run into that... monster. The word in Loki's mind was every bit true, and he felt a selfish kind of relief that he would never, ever be so cruel. Depending on one's definition.

She shook, staring at him with those large grey eyes. No, no justice would not be in killing her...

Bending slowly over to retrieve the sceptre, he kept his green eyes on her to make sure she didn't try and make an escape, though the pupils of those eyes expanded then shrunk when she saw the sharp end of the staff pointed towards her.

"You will have your revenge, poor creature," he murmured, touching the tip of the sceptre to her chest, the eyes glazing over with a much more pleasing blue, a smile lighting her face slowly, and in that brief blue haze he felt her relief. When their relief was as strong as their fear, it was better.

"Mmm, now, darling one, hold on to my arm. I have a friend who can make a -uh - nest for you, while I take care of things."

He led her back to where they were working on the Tesseract with a gentle arm, and she felt no more fear, only a deeply inspired love for this beautiful creature - more than a man. Pausing, he opened up the bandage on one of her arms, soaked in blood. Selvig and Barton watched on with dim delight that there was a new one, whose fears and horrors would no longer mattered. Two fingers ran over the wound, and she shivered, a moment of lucidity in her face as she watched him taste, then spread over his mouth and cheeks like war paint.

Loki saw in her eyes upon that contact that she wanted this, in and out of this new found freedom.

His grin was feral as he turned into the darkness to hunt. She wished him well.


End file.
